CHAPTER 32

BLIZZARD AND QUAKE

334 AR

Again Ragen was pulled from darkness, this time with a gentle shake. He opened his eyes to see Elissa, bathed in dawn light. He smiled despite the pounding in his head.

“How long?”

“You’ve been asleep all night, love.” Elissa reached out and stroked his beard. “I wish you could stay that way, but we’ve been summoned to court.”

Ragen’s muscles were still stiff and sore, but he managed to roll out of bed and push himself up onto his feet. He still wore the padded jerkin and leathers from beneath his armor, stinking of sweat and blood.

“Do I have time for a bath?”

“There’s no water, I’m afraid,” Elissa said. “The Grovers have already eaten the larder bare and drunk the wells dry.”

“There was nowhere else to go, Liss.”

Elissa put a soft hand on his cheek, kissing him. “Of course not. You did the right thing, but we can’t succor so many without aid.”

“We can do another night if we must,” Ragen said, “even if we all do without food, water, and baths.”

Elissa nodded, gesturing to a small tray by the door. “Margrit did manage to set aside something for us. Eat.”

Ragen set himself in front of the tray, drinking right from the pitcher and shoving bread into his mouth. He turned as Elissa headed for the door. “Where are you going?”

“Euchor has ordered the Mothers’ Council to gather apart from his court,” Elissa said, “so they will not be trapped in one place come nightfall.”

“Where?” Ragen asked.

“Count Brayan’s manse.”

Derek was waiting in the courtyard of Euchor’s keep with Malcum when Ragen and Yon arrived.

“They won’t even let me in to see her,” Derek growled. “My own ripping wife! My own corespawned son! Brayan’s got his keep locked tighter than Mother Jone’s arse.”

Ragen and Malcum looked around, but it seemed no one heard. Ragen leaned in as Yon and Malcum blocked them from view. “Keep your voice down. I know you’re worried about your family. I would be, too. But there’s nothing we can do about it right now. Brayan’s walls are some of the strongest in Miln. Stasy is as safe there as anywhere, and Elissa is on her way there even now to meet the Mothers’ Council. She’ll find Stasy and ensure she and Jef are well.”

Derek scowled, but he kept his mouth closed and gave a tight nod. Ragen clapped him on the shoulder.

Uncharacteristically, Euchor left the throne room empty, receiving only the most powerful lords and guildmasters from the head of his small council table.

“Neocount,” the duke grunted as Ragen and Derek took seats. “You can have your…assistant wait outside.”

“I’ve appointed Derek vice guildmaster,” Ragen said. “He’ll be coordinating Warders throughout the city today. It’s best he receives your commands directly.”

“Now, just a minute!” Vincin said. “You can’t—!”

“I can and I have.” Ragen produced a scroll full of signatures. “Since you’ve refused to call a meeting of the guild, the masters voted without you. I’ve been reinstated as master of the Warders’ Guild.”

Vincin turned to Euchor. “Your Grace! This man should be in irons, not commanding the defense! The guards say he nearly let corelings in the gate last night!”

“And where were you last night?” Ragen asked. “Locked tight in your manse while I fought demons on the street?”

“Enough!” Euchor banged his bracer. “The guild voted, Vincin. I don’t want to see that oily goatee twitch again unless your guildmaster commands it.”

Vincin’s face fell slack. Ragen knew he should relish the look, but he took no pleasure in it. They would need every Warder in the city unified today if they were to survive.

“Vincin does have a point, Ragen,” Euchor said. “Your heroics put us all at risk last night for a handful of peasants.”

“Seven hundred souls, including Warders, Messengers, and Your Grace’s own Mountain Spears,” Ragen said. “And what does it matter, when the demons came in through the sewers?”

Count Brayan opened his mouth but Euchor gave a wave, silencing him. “A problem for another day, as you say. This…Waning will continue tonight?”

“At least,” Ragen said. “The mind demons may only rise during new moon, but their generals, the mimics, do not seem so bound. They will attack where we are weakest, and continue to erode the defenses. Even if Miln does not fall this moon, we may not make it to the next.”

Euchor sat back, steepling his hands. “Can we collapse the sewers? Block them from getting in that way again?”

“In the inner city, perhaps,” Brayan said. “But it would deplete flamework we need for cannons.”

“The explosions would weaken the wards on the walls and foundations of the buildings,” Ragen said, “and it won’t work in any event. Rock demons may not be able to fit in the tunnels, but clay and stone demons can. They can burrow through rubble like voles in a garden.”

“What, then?” Euchor demanded. “We can’t just leave them access into the city.”

“Of course not,” Ragen agreed. “We’ll need to send men down into the dark to put in fresh wards. I sent word to my workshops to make stencils and collect every drop of paint in the city. We’ve a limited supply of hora collected from the bodies of demons before the sun burned them away. It should help reinforce the forbiddings and form a seal.”

“Will it be enough?” Euchor asked.

Ragen shrugged. “The Warders who first sealed the tunnels did their work well. Hopefully we can shore up the weaknesses and seal off the fresh breaches. The greater concern is whether the tunnels are empty.”

Euchor paled. “What do you mean, empty?”

“Many of the sewer passages have not seen daylight in a hundred years,” Ragen said. “Who can say how long the demons have been planning this, or if they have fled to the Core for the day or linger just beneath the surface?”

“Night,” Euchor said. “If they’re infested…”

“We can use mirrors,” Malcum said.

“Eh?” Euchor asked.

“An old Messenger trick,” Ragen said. “Reflect light into the tunnels to drive them back.”

“That will take every mirror in the city,” Brayan said.

“And then some,” Ragen said. “We’ll need Mountain Spears as well, to provide an armed guard for the Warders.”

“I need those men to hold the wall,” Euchor said.

“They held the wall last night,” Ragen said, “but there were still demons in the streets. We’ll need to evacuate as many as possible. Not just to the inner city, but to the strongest-walled manses and keeps. Here. My manse. Count Brayan’s and Countess Tresha’s fortresses, the Library.”

“I’ll be corespawned before I have Beggars in my Library and walls, Neocount,” Euchor said.

“We can bar the Library doors, Your Grace,” Ronnell said. “The stone Guardians will keep the corespawn from the hilltop. Should they breach, we can shelter in the Cathedral. If we need to flee to the Library…” He shrugged. “Fingerprints on the pages will be the least of our worries.”

“We have less than sixty thousand in the entire city, Your Grace,” Ragen pressed, when Euchor did not respond. “The able-bodied should be armed with whatever’s to hand. There’s no reason the rest can’t squeeze behind the walls of the royal keeps and manses for a night.”

“Fine, fine.” Euchor turned to his page. “Send a runner to Jone. She’s to organize the evacuation of the lower city. Everyone with a private wardwall is to take in as many as they can hold. No exceptions.”

“Your Grace…” Brayan began.

Euchor turned an angry glare his way. “Was there a yes before that, Count?”

Brayan drew back and blinked, but he was quick to recover and bow. “Of course, Your Grace. It will be done.”

“I won’t yield the walls without a fight,” Euchor said. “My family has guarded this city against the corelings for three hundred years. I won’t cede it in a single moon.”

“This is an outrage,” Tresha groused as their carriage climbed the great hill through the capital of Gold County. At the top, across a wide chasm, sat Count Brayan’s keep. “My walls are every bit as strong as Brayan’s. What right does Jone…”

“What does it matter, Mother?” Elissa snapped. “This isn’t the moment for politics.”

Tresha looked down her nose. “Don’t make me regret naming you my heir, girl. It’s always the moment for politics, times of trouble most of all.”

“Then let’s start with freeing Mother Stasy and her son,” Elissa said. “They belong with Derek behind my walls.”

“Your walls barely held last night, by all accounts.” Tresha pointed to the thick walls of Brayan’s keep, sitting on a bluff with great wards carved into the living rock. A single arching bridge of crete and steel was the only access point, the supports forming the lines of a powerful warding. “They’re safer there for now.”

“I pray you’re right,” Elissa said. “Are your Warders—”

“Thrice checking the sewers and laying paint all over my beautiful courtyards and gardens,” Tresha cut in.

“They’ll still be beautiful,” Elissa said, “once you’ve laid gravel paths through the lawns to hold the shape of the greatwards.”

“They’d best be,” Tresha said. “There’s enough stone in this ripping city already. The gardens were my last escape.”

“We all make sacrifices in war.” Elissa looked out over the chasm as they crossed the bridge.

The keep gates were open, and they were greeted in the courtyard by Servants in Count Brayan’s livery. Tresha and Elissa were immediately escorted into the meeting room where the other Mothers waited.

Mothers Jone and Cera moved to greet them, but Elissa spotted Stasy across the room and slipped around the other women to intercept her. It was a snub—one all three of the elder women would likely make her pay for—but it was worth it to catch the young woman alone.

“Elissa!” Stasy cried, throwing arms around her.

“It’s good to see you, dear,” Elissa said, squeezing warmly. In happier days when Derek worked in Cob’s warding shop, they had been frequent companions. Even out of favor with her mother, Elissa’s breeding had been enough for the two women to spend time as equals without causing a scandal. “Have you been treated well? Derek is beside himself with worry.”

Stasy sighed. “They’ve treated me no differently than before, save now I cannot cross the bridge.”

“And it is your wish to leave?” Elissa asked. “To take young Jef and come to live with Derek?”

“Oh, Mother Elissa, you know it is,” Stasy said. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, if Father and Cousin Brayan would only allow it.”

“I know, dear, but I needed to hear you say it aloud.” Elissa squeezed her shoulder, noticing Mother Cera gliding swiftly their way with Jone and Tresha at her heels. “We can fix things now. Derek has been appointed vice guildmaster in addition to his seat on the Warding Exchange.”

“I couldn’t believe it when Derek told me Arlen Bales left him a seat,” Stasy said. “That man’s been looking out for us since the beginning, all for the price of a few thundersticks.”

“Arlen’s loyalty isn’t a thing you can buy,” Elissa said. “The two of you earned it.” Cera was nearly upon them. “Will you swear your desire to leave before the council with your aunt looking on? They’ve been using you as a check on Ragen’s power, and won’t let you go easily.”

“I’ll shout it from the towers, if need be,” Stasy said, but her voice had dropped to a whisper as her royal cousin came within earshot.

“There you are, dear,” Mother Cera said, laying a firm hand on Stasy’s shoulder. “Perhaps it’s time you were getting back to your chambers. The Mothers’ Council is about to be called to order.”

Elissa bared her teeth at the woman, but it was in her most innocent smile. “Mother Stasy is a baron’s daughter, and has a right to a vote on the council.” Her voice was not loud, but it carried for other women to hear.

“Of course she can stay,” Tresha cut in quickly. “Every voice must be heard today.”

Cera’s eye twitched, but she was trapped and she knew it. It might be her house, but Tresha led the council. Elissa knew better than to press the advantage—yet—but she kept Stasy close as the council gathered and was called to order.

Hours passed as they studied reports of losses in the night, organizing evacuations and supply. They moved money and resources without the usual rancor and debate. Notes were written to allow the guilds to lend and borrow without interest money that did not exist. A steady stream of runners came and went across the bridge.

The sun was low in the sky when Elissa finally straightened from the papers she had been hunched over, putting a hand to the small of her back to relieve the strain. No doubt the roads were choked. If she wanted to return to the manse, it would need to be soon. She got to her feet but stumbled and lost her balance, sprawling to the floor.

At first she thought her legs must have fallen asleep, but then she saw women on the floor all around the room. The walls rattled, and the air was filled with a tremendous roar.

“What—?!” Elissa’s words choked off as she saw Tresha lying unmoving on the floor, blood pooling about her head. “Mother!”

She rushed to Tresha’s side, reaching for her silver stylus, but there was nothing she could do while sunlight still streamed in the windows. “Someone fetch a Gatherer! The Countess of Morning needs immediate aid!”

Baroness Cate, looking out the window, screamed. “The bridge collapsed!”

The words barely sank in as Elissa lifted her mother’s head back, clearing the passage of air for her weakened breaths. She wadded a kerchief against the bleeding gash on her mother’s temple. Tresha’s pulse was slow and erratic, but it was there.

“Mother!” she cried. “Mother, can you hear me?”

Tresha’s only reply was a groan, and there was no telling if it was a response to the words or the movement and pressure against her wound. Cera ushered her personal Gatherer to attend them while apprentices went among the other Mothers to triage.

“Is she dead?” Cera demanded.

Elissa glared at her as the Gatherer took Tresha’s wrist. “Alive, but I wouldn’t expect her to be leading the council anytime soon.”

“Then it falls to me,” Cera said.

Elissa lifted her chin. “I am Tresha’s heir.”

Cera snorted. “That you may be, child, but you’ve barely been part of the council a month. You’ve no authority.”

Elissa wanted to argue, but Cera was right. There was nothing to gain in fighting over it.

“A little lower, easy, now.” Ragen watched Yon and Cal tilt the heavy silvered mirror to cast sunlight into the sinkhole where another mirror team caught the beam and reflected the light deeper.

“Looks clear!” Derek called.

“You’re up,” Ragen said to a group of workers waiting with hand mirrors. They looked nervously at one another, then climbed down into the hole, lifting their mirrors to catch the light and send beams into the tunnels. When nothing happened, more men were sent in, angling the light even further. Warders readied their equipment and went in after to begin their work.

And then the screams began.

The workers just inside the hole dropped their heavy mirror and scrambled up to the street, leaving those inside the tunnel in darkness.

Ragen didn’t hesitate, his exhaustion lost in a rush of adrenaline as he leapt into the hole, skipping off a chunk of rubble to land beside the mirror. It had an ornate brass frame that protected it when the workers dropped it, but the thing weighed well over two hundred pounds, and he strained to lift it alone.

Cal and Lary Cutter jumped down after him, catching the frame and easily lifting it to catch the light once more.

Bodies littered the tunnel, bleeding in the fetid water. One was clutched in the talons of a demon that burst into flames when the sunlight struck it full-on. There were shrieks as other demons fled the light, and a few workers managed to scramble back out.

“Corespawn it,” Ragen cursed. They had found and sealed the tunnels the demons used to get past the walls, but apparently many demons had never left the city, and clearing them from the dark, cramped tunnels seemed an impossible task, even as daylight faded.

“Guildmaster!” a voice cried from above, even as a team of guards braved the tunnel to haul out the survivors, and the bodies.

Ragen climbed from the tunnel, catching Yon’s hand. The giant Cutter easily hauled him out of the hole where the runner was waiting.

“Guildmaster!” the boy cried.

“What is it?” The adrenaline was already fading, leaving Ragen even more tired than before. He didn’t think he could handle more bad news.

“Trapped?” Derek demanded. “What in the dark of night is that supposed to mean?”

“It looks like the demons tunneled beneath the bridge supports,” Ragen said.

Derek punched the heavy desk, but if the blow pained him, it didn’t show. “Corespawn it! I should have blown the doors off that ripping place!”

“And left everyone defenseless when the demons came?” Ragen asked. “They wouldn’t have knocked out the bridge if they thought they could easily breach the walls. They wanted to cut off the Mothers’ leadership.”

“Maybe,” Derek said. “Or maybe they want to hit the place tonight and don’t want help coming.”

Ragen grit his teeth. The same thoughts were running through his mind, but he needed to project calm, now more than ever. Night would fall soon, and if the demons could hit Gold County while the sun still shone, then nowhere was truly safe.

“Can’t we, I dunno, throw ’em a rope or sumthin’?” Yon asked.

“If you’ve got a Krasian scorpion handy, perhaps,” Ragen said. “Not even you can throw a rope across that chasm, and even if you could, what then? Ask old women to climb a quarter mile hand over hand?”

“Guess not,” Yon said. “Can’t just sit here, though.”

Ragen was silent a long time. The evacuations had only increased the number of souls behind his walls, their blankets bleached and dyed to reinforce the greatwards as they huddled on the grounds. He was the Neocount of Morning now, not Ragen Messenger, not the Warders’ Guildmaster. His responsibility was to his people.

But the demons had Elissa trapped.

“No,” he agreed at last. “We can’t just sit here.”

“Was it the demons?” Countess Cera asked as they looked down from the walltop at the ruin of the bridge below. The cloud of dust was still settling over countless tons of shattered crete.

“There were a lot of people running back and forth over that bridge today,” Elissa said, “but I don’t think we can accept it as coincidence on new moon. We have to assume the minds will come for us tonight. Somehow they knew we were meeting here. They want to take out our leaders to weaken the resistance.”

Mother Jone grew pale. “His Grace—”

“Is likely in terrible danger,” Elissa cut in. “But we have our own problems.” Tresha had been moved to a darkened chamber where Elissa could mend her wound, but she remained unconscious, and there was no telling when—or if—she would wake, or what she would be like when she did. She remembered Mistress Anet’s words. Magic by itself was not always enough.

She turned to Countess Cera, tightening her jaw as she spread her skirts and curtsied. “Mother. I apologize for challenging your leadership. This is your home, and the council is yours to speak for until my mother recovers. But I beg of you, allow me to take control of your Warders and the defense preparations. Your household complement is no doubt skilled, but I have practical experience they cannot match.”

Cera glanced at Jone, the two women seeming to hold an entire conversation with their eyes. After what seemed an eternity, Cera turned back and gave a brief nod. “What can we do?”

“Gather the Servants and any council members who remember their wardcraft lessons from the Mothers’ School,” Elissa said. “We’ll need ink, paint, every strip of white cloth in the keep, and anything that could be used as a weapon. Broomsticks, fire pokers, rolling pins, whatever you can find.” As she spoke, her eyes were running across the walltop wards. The keep was high above the city wardnet, and there were additional wind wards to keep those demons from swooping into the keep at night. An idea began to form—grisly, but perhaps effective.

“What good will broomsticks do against demons?” Jone asked.

“Feedback magic strengthens items,” Elissa said. “A broomstick might snap if you strike a man with it, but one with impact wards along its length will be strong as steel while the wards are charged. Anything long enough can be sharpened to a point with piercing wards to hold demons back.”

“You expect Mothers to fight hand-to-hand?” Cera was incredulous.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Elissa said, “but hope is in short supply. If they break past the outer defenses, we don’t have time to pretend women can’t swing their arms to save their own lives. Now, can someone take me down to the cellars?”

Elissa leaned over the wall of Gold Manse to look down the sheer drop as the sun set. Mother Cera, Stasy, and Jone leaned over the crenellations next to her.

In wardsight she could see demons appear on the chasm floor below as soon as the shadows were deep enough, but they did not rise from mist. They poured from fissures in the ground around the collapsed bridge supports.

“They’ve been in the city all day.” The thought made Elissa’s chest tighten, and she labored to keep her breathing even.

“Night,” Stasy whispered.

“If your adopted son really is the Deliverer, Elissa,” Cera said, “now is the time for him to appear.”

“I would be happy to be proven wrong, in that regard,” Jone agreed.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Elissa said.

Still the corelings continued to pour through the fissures, dozens becoming hundreds, until the chasm floor was filled. The demons swarmed the base of the cliff, but the rock face was cut deep with wards that sparked and flared, throwing them back.

Last to climb from the tunnels below were half a dozen full-sized rock demons. These wasted no time snatching up huge chunks of bridge masonry and hurling them at the cliff. They shattered against the rock, weakening the wards, and again the demons swarmed, this time scrabbling at the stone before the wards repelled them.

“We have to stop those rock demons,” Elissa said, looking to the house guards manning the nearest of the heavy cannons Brayan and Euchor took such pride in. “Can you shoot them?”

“Begging your pardon, Mother, but no,” one of the guards said. “Cannons are meant to take aim across the chasm, not down into it. They’ll flip right off the wall if we try to aim that low.”

Elissa eyed the sixteen-pound warded iron balls stacked by the wall next to the powder keg. She lifted one of the heavy things and eyed one of the rock demons below. She took a few steps back, then got a running start, pitching it over the side.

Elissa watched the ball drop out of sight, picking up speed as it fell hundreds of feet into the demon ranks. She caught sight of it again when it struck and the wards activated, smashing through a cluster of field demons. She had missed her mark by a fair margin, but the throw was satisfying nevertheless.

She looked to the guard. “Gravity need not be our enemy.”

The guard coughed. “Ay, Mother. We’ll pass the word.”

“None of that is going to stop those rock demons.” Jone’s voice had an uncharacteristic edge. Fear. Despair. Elissa looked and saw the same on the face of Mother Cera. Stasy. The guards on the wall.

Elissa slipped her silver stylus out of her pocket, looping the chain at the end around her wrist. “I’ll handle the rock demons.” Her words were loud enough for several cannon teams to hear.

All eyes were on her as Elissa drew a series of wards in glowing silver script that hung in the air. When the final symbol was linked, she opened the nib to feed the spell, aiming at a pair of rock demons.

The line of wards flew like a blade, growing larger and brighter as it went until it cut through the demons like a spike through stone. Their armor shattered, and the pair were thrown down, dead.

“Creator above!” Cera cried.

Elissa’s satisfaction was short-lived as a wave of dizziness came over her. She’d used too much power to make sure the demons were killed on the first strike. She teetered, but Stasy caught her belt, pulling firmly back before she pitched over the wall.

“Are you all right?” Stasy kept her voice low.

“I’m fine.” Already, the dizziness was fading. Thankfully, only Stasy seemed to notice. The others near them on the wall stared at her, dumbfounded.

From farther off there was pointing and shouting, and Elissa knew word would spread quickly. It was worth the risk, to give the defenders hope, but she could not continue to cast spells like that.

“Back to your stations!” She sketched a ward to amplify her voice, and the men turned their attention below with renewed vigor, lifting heavy iron balls and pitching them into the demon masses.

“Mothers,” Elissa said, looking to Jone and Cera. “You’ve seen all you need to see from the wall. I think it best you head back inside.”

The women hesitated a moment, then Cera shook herself and nodded. “Of course. Come along, Stasy.” She turned to go.

Elissa caught Stasy’s arm. “I’ll need the young Mother to assist me, I’m afraid.”

Cera looked like she wanted to protest, but she’d just seen Elissa tear two rock demons in half with her stylus. Jone tugged at her arm, and the two women hurried down from the wall.

Stasy looked out over the edge again. “I don’t know whether to thank you, Mother.”

“I don’t want thanks.” Elissa produced a second stylus, plainer than her own, but nevertheless powerful. The Warders’ Guild had a template now, and used the pens to great effect in Harden’s Grove. “I want your help. You’re the only person in this keep I trust with one of these.”

Stasy started to reach for the pen, then drew her hand back, rubbing her fingers together. “It’s been a long time since I worked in Master Cob’s warding shop.”

“I’m sure you recall the basics, dear.” Elissa pressed the stylus into Stasy’s hand, meeting her eyes. “Everyone in this keep is going to die if we don’t stop those rock demons. I need you. The Mothers need you. Your son needs you.”

Stasy nodded. “Ay, Mother. How does it work?”

Elissa quickly showed her the wards to open the nib, and how to adjust the flow of power. “Try something simple.”

“An impact ward?” Stasy asked, eyeing a rock demon illuminated in the wardlight.

“I think not, until you’ve practiced more.” Elissa eyed a guard as he pitched an iron cannonball over the wall, and had a thought. She chose the nearest rock demon to the throw and drew a magnetic ward.

They lost sight of the projectile, but then it flared with magic, yanked from its natural trajectory to smash the rock demon in the chest. The demon staggered back, alive but not unscathed.

Stasy nodded, drawing a magnetic ward of her own. She fed it too much power, and from along the wall half a dozen cannonballs were drawn to a single demon, bashing it to death. Elissa readied herself to catch the young woman, but she did not seem harmed by the spell.

“Oh, to be twenty-five again.” Elissa sighed.

“What’s that, Mother?” Stasy asked.

“Nothing. Come along, dear.”

They walked the wall aiming shots for the guards, but for every rock demon they put down, more appeared. Little by little, the corelings were gaining ground, slowly scaling the cliff. Soon they would reach the keep walls in numbers that threatened to overwhelm the wardnet.

“Wind demons!” one of the lookouts cried.

The flight of demons swooped from the sky carrying smaller bits of masonry to rain down upon the defenses. A few smashed against the battlements, or knocked guards from the wall. The lucky ones fell twenty feet to land on the hard courtyard cobbles. The unlucky ones fell to the demons.

The deaths were incidental, Elissa noted. “Creator. They’re aiming at the wards! Shoot them!”

Guards raised mountain spears, and the flamework weapons went off like festival crackers, tearing through the wind demons. Corelings soaring with grace and ease suddenly yarped and spasmed, some dropping their stones prematurely, others losing altitude and crashing into the keep’s wardnet.

Just a few hours before, wind wards had formed a barrier that would have left a dead demon lying in midair atop the wardnet until the sun burned it away. A live demon would have skittered off, pained and angered but relatively unharmed.

Elissa had since added cutting wards to the net. When the wind demons struck the forbidding, they were sliced to pieces. Ichor, leathery bits of wing, and still-twitching chunks of flesh rained down upon the courtyard, sending shimmers of power through the crude greatwards painted on the cobbles.

A demon caught sight of Elissa, veering from its course to focus on her, a heavy stone in its talons. She raised her stylus and drew an impact ward, keeping it small, like the head of a hammer. It smashed into the thin shoulder joint of the coreling’s left wing, and the wind demon lost control of its flight, flapping awkwardly before the wardnet tore it apart.

Guards in the courtyard rushed out with warded halberds to finish off anything still kicking. These were followed by Warders who spread the remains to power the greatwards evenly, and harvested hora to power wardings of their own. It was grisly work for men and women used to ink and carving tools, and the sour stink of vomit mixed with the stench of demon ichor in the air. Elissa wet a scarf and pulled it over her nose and mouth, but her own stomach roiled.

Buckets of demon guts and ichor were collected and carried to the cellars to strengthen the sewer wards. If the demons had been able to knock out the bridge supports, it was likely they were already in the tunnels below the keep, looking to break through.

The demons’ progress on the cliff was steady, if not quick. Even the mighty rock demons couldn’t throw stones the full height of the cliff. They began to climb, tearing chunks one-handed from the rock face and hurling them upward. It was slower work, but only a matter of time before they reached the top of the cliff and began to assault the walls.

Elissa looked to a cannon team, their store of ammunition rapidly diminishing. “Pitch the powder keg over the wall.”

“Flame powder don’t work like that, Mother,” one of the guards said. “Won’t go off.”

Elissa raised her stylus. “I think I can encourage it.”

The guard grinned, and he and his men heaved the barrel up and over the side. Elissa watched it fall, then drew a heat ward just before it fell from sight. The keg exploded, knocking demons from their purchase to plummet to the chasm below. Corelings could recover from enormous damage, but Elissa doubted even they could survive a fall from such height.

The defenders cheered, daring to hope once more, but then there was a rumbling like a quake and part of the courtyard collapsed. Demons, unable to reach the wall, had tunneled beneath it. Greatwards crumbled in huge sections of the yard, their power winking out.

“Breach!” Elissa felt the wall teetering beneath her as the foundation crumbled. Soldiers and Warders were rushing for the stairs, but whether by luck or design, Elissa and Stasy were far from an exit as their section of wall began to tip toward the chasm.

Elissa froze, but Stasy kept her head, drawing wind wards in front of them as she grabbed Elissa and pushed both of them off the wall into the courtyard.

Stasy’s wards activated, cushioning their fall, but still they struck the cobbles hard, breath knocked out of them. Elissa would be a mass of bruises by morning, if she lived that long.

She would have lost her stylus if not for the chain about her wrist. She caught it again and Drew just a little, restoring her strength.

A pair of stone demons were pulling themselves from the foundation of the broken section of wall. These were followed not by field or flame demons, as Elissa might have expected, but something she had only heard of in stories.

Snow demons, their white scales scintillating in the wardlight, came in a blizzard. Elissa raised her stylus to draw heat wards, but the demons ignored her and the other defenders, running to hawk coldspit onto undamaged sections of wall. The crete turned white with hoarfrost even as Elissa began burning the demons alive.

Guards armed with flamework weapons formed firing lines, and many of the snow demons yelped and dropped to the ground, but the damage was done. The stone demons ignored flamework and heat wards alike as they charged the wall, hammering the frozen stone with blows that shook the entire keep.

Blizzards and quakes, Arlen said. The words proved prophetic as the stone demons smashed through the walls, opening the courtyard to the night. Corelings shrieked as they came streaming through the gap.

“Back to the manse!” Elissa used magic to strengthen her voice, but she needn’t have bothered. The few soldiers who managed to reload laid down fire as their fellows stampeded through the courtyard to enter the house proper.

It was chaos like Elissa had never seen as the nimble snow demons set upon the fleeing men and women.

“Keep to the greatwards!” Elissa boomed. Indeed, the wards still glowed in sections of the yard, and demons chasing those who reached their succor were swatted away.

Elissa and Stasy were not so fortunate, having landed on a section of the damaged cobbles.

Stasy caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to draw an impact ward and knock away a wind demon that soared through the gap in the wardnet. It would only be moments before others took similar advantage.

A group of snow demons turned in unison, black eyes fixed on Elissa. She drew a heat ward at them, but the demons scattered, converging on them from several angles.

“Run!” Elissa lifted her skirts with her free hand, and she and Stasy ran for the manse doors. The demons were faster, but they drew snow wards, knocking them from their path. It looked as if they would reach the house when a stone demon stepped into their path.

They pulled up short, raising styluses, but at that moment one of the pursuing snow demons hawked coldspit, striking Elissa across the legs. She screamed, falling to the cobbles, the limbs burning with pain unlike anything she had ever known.

“Elissa!” Stasy screamed.

“Run!” Elissa struggled to one hand, raising her stylus to draw a shaky heat ward that scorched her own face even as it burned the nearest snow demons.

“Like night I will!” Stasy held the stone demon off with a quick ward of protection and ducked to throw Elissa’s free arm over her shoulder. She heaved, and managed to get them both to their feet. One of Elissa’s legs burned but held her weight. The other was numb, and managed little more than a jolting limp.

They stumbled onto one of the greatwards, but the stone demon tore free a cobble and threw it their way. Stasy turned, swinging Elissa in her haste, but she wasn’t quick enough to stop the projectile. It smashed into her chest, knocking her and Elissa both to the ground.

“Stasy!” Elissa drew an impact ward, using much of her remaining magic to power it. The stone demon was knocked onto its back, armor spiderwebbed with cracks.

Elissa felt for a pulse. Half the woman’s chest was caved in, her face red with blood.

There were screams all around them, men, women, and demons dying, but many of the injured corelings were already recovering. They scratched at the forbidding of the greatward, talons trailing silver light as they search for the gaps in the protection. Not far off, Elissa saw the other stone demon pick up a piece of rubble and take aim at her.

All around the courtyard, demons were turning her way. She felt hundreds of eyes on her, and knew a mind must be close.

With a wail of anguish, Elissa pushed herself to her feet. One leg shook and the other was little more than a peg to balance against. She threw an impact ward to knock away the demon’s missile and limped for the manse doors.

A pair of guards reached her, ducking under her shoulders and lifting her right off her feet as they ran for the house.

Demons charged, but the greatwards were only growing in power, feeding the wards on the manse walls. They were flaring brightly now, pulling power from the swarming demons. A rock demon threw a hunk of masonry at the manse, but the ward flared and it shattered, leaving the wall intact.

The greatwards had reached critical mass with so many demons to Draw upon, fields overlapping one another around the manse. The demons tried to surge through, but it only made the forbidding stronger. They pressed up against the magic like children putting their faces against glass as guards fired cannons and flamework weapons from the manse roof, turning the courtyard into a kill zone.

“Quickly now!” Mother Cera herself was at the door, holding a spear in one hand and stretching the other toward Elissa. She was pulled inside, and the doors slammed shut behind her.

Elissa was dimly aware of being dragged to a couch. She was wrapped in blankets in front of a roaring fire, but couldn’t seem to stop shivering and sobbing. Stasy’s crushed breast was frozen in her mind’s eye.

A cup was pushed into her hands and she drank, ignoring the burn of the hot tea on her throat. She lay there shaking as the Gatherer lifted her dress, but she felt nothing.

“Night,” the Gatherer gasped.

And then the tea took hold, and Elissa let her eyes close, welcoming oblivion.

It was still night when Elissa was started awake. She was bathed in sweat, head pounding, throat dry. Every movement brought burning pain. Outside, the bombardment continued.

“What time is it?”

“She’s awake!” someone cried. “Fetch Mother Jone!”

Elissa shook herself, trying and failing to sit up. She pulled the arm of the couch until her head was raised when the Gatherer came to her. “Easy, Countess.”

Countess? The word struck her. Had her mother died?

Jone appeared a moment later. “Elissa. Thank the Creator.” Mother Cera was at her back, looking less pleased. And why shouldn’t she be? Elissa had taken Stasy from her and gotten the young woman killed.

“My mother?” Elissa asked.

“Alive,” Jone said. “But she hasn’t woken, and the Gatherer says every hour that goes by makes it less likely that woman who wakes will be the one we remember. Until she recovers, you are Countess of Morning.”

“The demons?”

“Your greatwards and my remaining guard have them stymied, at least for now,” Jone said. “But there are sounds of digging below the keep, and we don’t know what to do.”

“I need to see for myself.” Again, Elissa tried to sit up, and failed. “Gatherer…I can’t feel my legs.”

The Gatherer’s blank stare was telling, and Elissa fumbled at the blankets. Pulling them away from her legs.

“Countess!” The Gatherer reached out to stop her, but Elissa slapped her hand away, at last revealing her legs. They twitched as she flailed, but she could not feel it. The skin was pale, mottled with sunken patches of gray and stark white.

Elissa felt her tears returning and ground her teeth, forcing them back. “Is there anything you can do?”

Again the blank stare, but Elissa met it with a hard one of her own. At last, the Gatherer threw up her hands. “The flesh is frozen, Countess. Dead. In time, you may heal in part, but I do not expect you will walk again.”

Elissa searched herself, realizing her own clothes were gone. “Where is my stylus?”

“You’re in no condition—” Jone began.

“Give it to me,” Elissa cut in. “Unless you want corelings swarming from the basement.”

Jone looked pained, reaching into a pocket of her gown for an item wrapped in a silk kerchief. She handled it like a hot iron pan.

Elissa snatched it from her hands, unwrapping her silver stylus. Its charge was largely depleted, but she prayed enough remained as she slid fingers over the wards to allow her to Draw directly on its power.

She inhaled as the magic jolted through her. The aches and pain in her skull receded, and she felt clearheaded for the first time in hours. Something of her strength returned. She moved to put her feet under her, but her legs did not obey as they should, tangling each other and leaving her awkwardly twisted.

“Countess…” the Gatherer warned. Elissa ignored her, taking the stylus and drawing wards directly on her legs, opening the nib to release whatever power remained.

The wards flared and some feeling returned, the white and gray mottling receding slightly, but it was nothing like the total healings she had effected in the past.

But as with Woron’s wound, sometimes magic alone was not enough.

Elissa shoved the thought aside, again trying to get to her feet. She managed to get her right leg under her, but the left dragged, and when she stood it could not fully support her. She balanced on one shaking leg a moment, then fell back.

“Don’t just stand there gawking,” she snapped. “Someone fetch me a cane.”

Elissa felt her nerves clench every time she heard the rumbling sound. Dust shook from the walls and ceiling, choking air thick with the stench of ichor.

Elissa’s Warders had drawn greatwards on the floor and charged them with coreling remains. Elissa refilled her stylus the same way. Mother Jone lent her a steadying arm as she stared at the wall, hora pen at the ready.

It was an old, sealed-off sewer entrance where the breach seemed imminent. Demons should not have been able to approach the powerful forbiddings, but the sounds of shattering rock continued.

Then, suddenly, all grew quiet. Elissa held a breath as the wall turned white with rime. It made a high-pitched whine as the moisture inside turned solid, then an impact sent everyone lurching. Elissa’s legs buckled, and she banged her hips as she hit the stone floor. The wall was shattered, and from the rubble stepped…Derek.

“I’m through!” Derek’s eyes scanned the room, lighting on her. “I see Elissa! She’s alive!”

Ragen came rushing past, shoving confused Warders aside as he fell to his knees beside her. “Lissa, are you all right?”

She wanted to tell him the truth, but in the moment it didn’t seem to matter. She threw her arms around him and squeezed tight. “I’m all right. How did you get here?”

“The same way the demons have been getting around. The sewers.” Ragen nodded to Yon and Woron, who came out of the rubble followed by a group of Mountain Spears. “Flamework proved quite effective in the cramped tunnels.”

Derek spotted Mother Cera standing with Jone. “Where is Stasy?” He strode in close. “Where is my son?”

“You don’t—” Cera began, but Derek raised his stylus, pointing it right at her nose.

“No more hiding behind your title, Countess,” Derek growled. “Not tonight. You will take me to my wife. Now.”

“Or what?” Jone snapped. “You’ll murder the Countess of Gold in front of everyone?”

Derek waved the stylus at her as well. “Don’t test me, old woman.”

“Stasy is dead,” Cera said. “Killed by a stone demon.”

Derek stumbled back at the words, face twisting in pain. But then he rushed back in, hora pen leading. “Because of you!”

Mother Cera stumbled back, falling to the floor as Derek stalked in. “No. Because of her.” She pointed to Elissa. “Because Mother Elissa had her fighting demons on the walls when she should have been safe inside with the other Mothers.”

Derek’s eyes flicked to Elissa, and she could not lie to him. “Stasy saved countless lives tonight.”

Derek gaped at her, then squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear it, turning back to Cera and pointing his stylus. “She wouldn’t even have been here had you not been holding her prisoner. Now take me to my son.”

“I’ll do no such thing while you’re—”

Derek drew a sharp warding, and the stone floor beside the countess cracked. She jumped, getting to her feet.

“Go with them, Yon, ay?” Ragen said. “Make sure Derek…”

“…dun’t do anythin’ stupid,” Yon finished. “On it.”

“I’ll see that fool in irons,” Jone said when they were gone.

“You’ve bigger problems than a man who just lost his wife wanting assurance his only child is well,” Ragen said.

“Euchor’s keep is in flames.”